


Here I go again

by Potatochutney



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Bilbo, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo is a shameless Hobbit maid who will have as much sex with as many partners as she likes, Bilbo slept with a lot of Dwarves during the journey, Damn Hobbits, Dwobbit Frodo, Dwobbits, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Female Bilbo, Mostly past relationships, Multi, Nobody knows, That time I made an AU which is basically Mamma Mia, Well Bilbo knows, Who's the daddy, and got pregnant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potatochutney/pseuds/Potatochutney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Five Armies, Miss Bilbo Baggins left for home without a goodbye or parting gift.<br/>When she reached the shire she was most certainly very pregnant, with her being the only one that knew who the child's father really was.</p>
<p>She hadn't expected another Dwarf to alert the company that there was a Dwobbit in the shire. </p>
<p>Or for them to turn up and demand to know.</p>
<p>Alternative summary:<br/>that time I accidentally made a mamma mia parody with the hobbit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The timeframe has been messed up a lot to make this fit, but do I care? Not really.  
> I just really liked this idea.  
> Please feel free to review this, I may even hold a poll for who you think Frodo's father is seeing as there's so many potential pairings to be had.

“Aunt Bilbo! Aunt Bilbo! There’s somebody at the door.” Frodo called out.

“Well you answer it then, Frodo!”

“But they’re not a Hobbit or Gandalf. Bilbo, it’s a Dwarf like from your stories!”

Until that point, Bilbo Baggins had been comfortably settled in her study, compiling her story still, reviewing it and checking the spelling. Of course she was leaving out important details, but had a real timeline written up in a dark corner where nobody would ever read it, not Lobelia, not Frodo. 

Nobody. 

She sighed, getting up from her chair. It was probably just a lost Dwarf from Ered Luin trying to get somewhere else and figured the hero burglar of Erebor would be a good stop. 

Bilbo sighed and straightened her skirt and blouse with a little sigh as she passed Frodo in the hall who sheepishly headed into the kitchen. 

Bilbo was not expecting to see Dís, Princess under the mountain, mother of the crown prince Fíli. 

“Bilbo Baggins.”

“Princess Dís. Or would you rather I say my Lady? I suppose it’s all the same when we both know who you are.” Bilbo offered a little bow to the Durin princess. 

“May I come into your...Burrow?” Dís raised a dark brow at the Hobbit, glancing around the smial. She was every bit as beautiful as last Bilbo remembered. Last time Bilbo had seen her, she had been gracefully travelling in the convoy from Ered Luin to Erebor, Bilbo had already made it to Rivendell when she had seen Dís and been introduced by Gandalf to the princess. Their friendship was strained to say the least, due to the Arkenstone affair. 

“Smial. And yes you may, I just need to fix us some lunch. Do come in, Frodo won’t get in your way, he’ll just be curious.” Bilbo gestured for the princess to follow her into the warm home. Of course, she did but she hadn’t expected Frodo to come out with a frying pan and a frown. 

“Who is this, and why is she here?” He asked suspiciously. “I thought you said Dwarves were the most confounded and useless of the races.”

Ah shit. 

Bilbo put on her warmest smile. 

“This is an old friend of mine from my adventures, the one I was on with mister Gandalf.” Bilbo said. “Princess Dís, meet my dear boy and heir Frodo Baggins. Frodo, this is Fíli and Kíli’s mother. And yes, sausages do seem like a very good idea, thank you for getting the pan down for me but please go and wash up, I’ll call you when we are ready to eat.” That seemed like enough introduction for Bilbo’s liking, taking the pan from the boy and guiding the other woman into the kitchen. 

 

She expected the filthy look Dís gave her, honestly. Of course the Dwarrowdam had it figured out right away.

“He’s your son, isn’t he? And you’re not married. He’s not fully Hobbit.” She stated accusingly. 

Bilbo raised her chin and began to prepare the food. 

“He’s the child of my cousins who died in a boating accident a few years ago. I have no idea what you’re talking about Dís but that is incredibly rude to even suggest that I, a respectable Baggins of Bag End would have a child out of wedlock and then remain unmarried. He is as Hobbit as you can get, he has Tookish blood in him, that’s why he’s a little tall. Nothing unusual. After all our great gr- Never mind. You wouldn’t know him, a relative of ours was tall enough to ride a real horse though. Frodo is a typical Hobbit and you would do well not to make up such accusations!” Bilbo snapped, throwing the sausages into the pan with a little noise of indignation. 

“You cannot lie to me. I know a Dwarrow when I see one and I know you’re a mother when you treat him like that, Bilbo Baggins you need to tell him the truth.” Dís persisted. Bilbo frowned and ran a hand through her long hair. 

“Dís if you breathe a word of this to anyone I swear I will tell Lobelia Sacksville-Baggins about your wealth and she’ll come after you next. You should leave tomorrow and do not come back. Don’t tell your brother, sons or any of the company that Frodo even exists as one of them will come to claim them as their own! He is not a dwarf.” Bilbo tried to keep calm, but the threat that lay in her voice was not to be tested, because she would fight every damned dwarf from here to Erebor if they touched Bilbo.  
“You’re a good mother.” Dís chuckled, placing her hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

 

On the return from Erebor Bilbo had realised she was pregnant. Of course she knew who the father was the second Frodo was born, but up until that point she had been concerned that she didn’t know for sure which Dwarf was the father. 

After all, there’d been that tussle with Bofur in Rivendell and then in Dale and a couple times before and after, then that romp with Nori on the gold once Smaug had left and in Mirkwood a few times, even the night she stole the Arkenstone she’d just finished with Dwalin who had been the designated watchman, okay that one had been a little evil of her to do to Dwalin and of course in Beorn’s house she’d slept with Dwalin. And then there were all those times with Thorin during the journey.  
Not including the times with Bofur AND Nori together.

Bother it all. 

She’d given Frodo to her cousins who had lost a child the night Frodo was born. It was a simple trade, they understood one another’s grief. 

Bilbo hadn’t expected them to die when Frodo was twelve. He was still so young, so Bilbo ‘adopted’ the boy, which wasn’t uncommon in spinsters to adopt faunts of relatives that died young. So really, she hadn’t missed much of the boy’s life, and now he was twenty two, still not at his majority though.  
If those Dwarves found out, she would have to throttle the father and the others that believed they were her son’s father. She’d done well without them so far, so she didn’t need them now. 

 

Frodo joined them for lunch, eating his sausages in their roll slowly. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he watched the Dwarrowdam. Bilbo knew exactly what he was about to say.

“So...Are all lady Dwarves really hairy, or is it just you?” Frodo asked, getting a sharp look from Bilbo and a raised brow from the princess. 

“I’m one of the Dwarrowdam with less beard, actually. Are all Hobbits as rude and skinny as you are?” Dís retorted. Bilbo almost choked on her tea.  
Almost. 

“Frodo runs around as any faunt would, but he burns through his meals faster than other boys his age. But he is faster and goes further adventuring than they do.” Bilbo quickly replied, kicking Frodo gently so he wouldn’t be provoked to respond further.  
“Oh really?” Dís smirked. She knew that he was skinny because soon he’d grown into larger muscles, the running would soon turn into fighting or crafting. Oh her brother would be livid. Dís was certain the boy’s father must be Bofur, they had the same dark hair and gleam in their eyes that screamed fun and mischief.

“Yes. Now are all Dwarves so useless at finding places like Aunt Bilbo told me?” Frodo asked. 

Bilbo groaned and covered her face with her hands

By supper the dwarf and Frodo were the best of friends, she was teaching him how to fight, surprised when he didn’t take a blunter tool, but preferred the axe and his fists. 

But that was what Dwalin preferred. Bofur was a blunt weapon Dwarrow, it usually ran in the line that the child takes after the father’s best weapon and then learns others and could be skilled with others. Mahal me turg!

Bilbo scowled at the way Frodo fought with Dís in the garden. It was improper. 

But he was part Took. So it could be passed off as normal by their standards. 

 

Before bed, Frodo had picked Dís’ pocket and taken a little oval stone and a sharp dagger out, frowning as he tried to understand the letters engraved on both.

She hadn’t even noticed him taking it, only knowing they were gone when he asked her what they said. And throwing the dagger to rest just by her boot wasn’t expected at all.

But he shouldn’t have that kind of skill, he wasn’t Nori’s son! Or maker forbid and help her, was he Fíli’s? 

“I don’t understand what it says but my mind says it is a word I should know.” Frodo frowned. 

“It’s a stone that promises you will go home. When I travel I take it with me so I will go back home to my boys. When Kíli or Fíli travel they take it. It’s a promise, a promise to be safe as it were.” She explained. 

Frodo didn’t understand the word she said in what must be a dwarf language, but it resonated in his heart. Made it ache for something he didn’t know.

“How did you get that knife from me? And how did you throw it so well?” She asked, running a hand through Frodo’s dark hair.  
“Aunt Bilbo taught me to pick pockets and we throw conkers at the Sacksville-Bagginses.” Frodo grinned, a chuckle responding from the woman. 

“She looks after you very well. Will you let me braid your hair, Frodo?” She asked, might as well accept this boy as kin and braid his soft curls. 

“If you’d like. Aunt Bilbo used to do it a certain way but I can’t remember how she did it. She put a bead in it too.” Frodo explained, settling on the floor in front of Dís, letting her braid a few little plaits into his hair. He didn’t mind it, found it soothing even. When she patted his head he realised he’d been falling asleep. “Thank you Dís ma’am.” Frodo mumbled, heading into the house where Bilbo was waiting, arms crossed over her chest.

 

Bilbo’s heart ached looking at the braids, she hadn’t loved Frodo’s father, she hadn’t really loved any of the dwarves enough to stay and by the time she was home it was far too late to let the father know, he was probably married already. She’d braided Frodo’s hair the same as his father when he was young and would come for tea, but now she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Seeing those braids hurt her heart. They weren’t the right ones, but they still suited her boy better than any. 

“Come now Frodo, warm milk before bed sounds good does it not?” She patted the boy’s head before giving him the small cup of warmed milk. Frodo gratefully drank it before his heavy sounding feet headed into his room in the smial.  
Dís’ face could reflect the pain on Bilbo’s perfectly, watching the child go. 

 

“I remember Kíli at that age. Though Frodo is much like the Company, isn’t he? I wouldn’t have thought you’d have it in you to pick pockets perfectly and then train him to do so too.” Dís smiled, her tone bittersweet. “My boys are too hardened now. I hope that never happens to your boy, it would be far too horrid for a child so sweet. When is his name day?” 

“Same day as he was born, same birthday as mine actually. First of the month we call September. We always hold grand parties, give plenty of presents as you do. Feel free to send a card next year.” Bilbo dismissively waved her hand. No point even denying it anymore, it seemed. 

“I see. So...Who is his father? I’ve been wondering and he’s so much like different dwarrows.” Dís asked. Bilbo crossed her arms.  
“No. I will not tell you, because you don’t need to know and Frodo will never meet his father. And that is final.” Bilbo snapped, pulling out a little bottle of brandy.

“Now how about something to take the stress away?” Bilbo offered a glass of the alcohol to the princess and got a toothy grin in return. 

 

Several glasses later they were both in Bilbo’s bed, kissing and fumbling in the dark, giggling like a pair of faunts. It was almost embarrassing for Bilbo how much she got around when it came to dwarves, but she knew how to push their buttons and it always seemed to end up like this. 

Besides, Dís was gorgeous in her own way, built strong and slightly tall, like her brother and sons, but with slight curves.  
“You shouldn’t bandage your chest up, it’s a waste of bosom.” Bilbo teased, pulling away the travel wrappings to free her chest.  
“You’d know all about bosom, miss Bilbo I-have-huge-breasts-Baggins!” Dís retorted, getting a snort from Bilbo.  
Of course Bilbo was more ample, being a Hobbit meant she was more curvaceous than other races, especially Dwarves who were built for hard work regardless of gender, while Hobbits were breeding machines. 

“Oh shut up and get undressed already!”

 

In the morning Bilbo slipped her nightgown back on and then her dressing gown, leaving the princess snoring soundly in her bed. Of course Bilbo had no hangover, she was a Baggins of Bag End and a Baggins does not do hangovers. There was a slight hickey on her shoulder, so no particularly revealing dresses would be worn until it faded. 

She set about making breakfast for herself and the two sleeping Dwarves.  
Well, Dwobbit and Dwarf.  
Both of which arrived as the large breakfast was laid out for the two who tucked in with a grunt at most and a groan of pain from Dís.  
Bilbo smirked as she set about eating. 

Sucker. 

Dís was given at least two day’s worth of food by Hobbit standards, so it would probably last her a week. Frodo and Bilbo waved her off with a slight smile. 

At least the relations with the Durins wasn’t completely ruined. 

 

She heard nothing from Dís or any Dwarves for another eight months, when she saw a certain hat bearing Dwarf saunter up towards Bag End. And another. And another. And another. How many more were there?

By the blessed green bush of Yavanna this would not go down well.

Fuck you Dís Durin, daughter of Thrór and Frís. 

Bilbo quickly tugged Sting from her sheath, the blade was always kept nearby, who knows when you would need it. She put it just against the porch and opened the door with a face hard enough to break any spirit.

Dori, Ori, Nori, Dwalin, Balin, Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and Bofur looked at her expectantly. There was somebody behind them too, but for now she was too busy staring down the King Under The Mountain himself with a frown sharp enough to cut through the assembled men. 

“Go away.” Bilbo crossed her arms. 

 

Thorin was the first to step forward, tugging Frodo forward with him, grip too tight on the poor boy’s arm, he obviously looked distressed, scared even. She just glanced at him and softened her gaze momentarily, letting him know she had this under control. 

Bilbo gritted her teeth, picking sting up. She composed herself and stepped out towards Thorin in return, blade held in one hand. 

“Drop him, Thorin Oakenshield or I shall cut your beard and hair and leave you bald and crying in the street.” Her voice was even and cold, not forgetting her banishment and how he’d tried to kill her and was now threatening HER son.

Thorin’s grip just tightened and she could see Frodo stamping and kicking at Thorin’s feet and legs.

Bilbo stepped forward and pressed the tip of Sting to Thorin’s throat. 

“You drop him right this second, Thorin or I’ll stick you like a pig.” Her free hand came to take hold of Frodo’s, tugging him away and behind her the second Thorin released his arm.

Bilbo backed up carefully, both hands gripping sting now, hands steady. 

“How dare you. How dare you come here, Thorin. And bring them. Turn around and go back where you came from. Back to Erebor! My nephew has nothing to do with what happened before, so you go on, go back to your stupid mountain!” Bilbo shouts. Her hand gives a little shake and tremble and she pushed Frodo into the smial with Sting in his hands. 

Now her boy was out of danger she rounded on the Dwarves, throwing herself at Thorin with a well aimed punch, knocking him to the floor so she could proceed to beat the ever loving shit out of Thorin. 

Thorin, surprisingly didn’t even fight back in his surprise, it was only when Bofur and Nori lifted the woman from him that it even registered that she’d probably broken his nose. 

Dwalin helped him up and Bilbo stomped on his foot as hard as she could. 

“Ori, Dori, Nori, Bofur. You may stay. The rest of you, get off of my land.” She snapped, brushing the dust from her dress.  
“Bilbo, don’t be so hasty! Amad told us you had a kid so we had to see!” Kíli piped up, he’d changed drastically in the twenty three years since she’d last seen him. He had a proper beard, bless him. 

“He is not my child, he is the child of my dead cousins, how dare you be so inconsiderate of their deaths, why I have half a mind to beat the lot of you silly, turning up here uninvited. Terrible manners, that is!” Bilbo snapped. 

“But Amad said-“ Fíli started, only to get his moustache braids tugged by Kíli. 

“Even if he were my child, which he most certainly is not, what brings you here to see him?” Bilbo’s expression darkened.

“Dís said he was half and half. Word spread and people came to see who’s child he is. He looks like both myself and Bofur, but snuck up on us as well as Nori could, before punching me as hard as Dwalin as a child might have because I insulted his ‘Aunt Bilbo’. So Bilbo, tell us the truth.” Thorin wiped the blood from his nose ad fixed Bilbo with a cold expression. She glanced at the round door before pursing her lips. 

“Fine. Yes he is my child. Yes one of you is the father. No I am not telling you, because I know you will try and take him away. Now boys, in. The rest of you, go to the Green Dragon and let Balin lead the way.”

Of course Bilbo’s word was final, Bofur, Nori and his brothers headed into the house while the other five skulked away.  
Bilbo took a deep breath once the door was shut.

“Bofur, Ri brothers. I am glad to see you four. Would you like something to eat? Frodo, dear boy put the kettle on for my friends. They’re the good ones from the adventure I went on all those years ago.” Bilbo called. She looked at the four men and raised her brows.

“Best behaviour, don’t tell him the truth and if you do I will pluck Nori’s eyebrows, shave a line through Dori’s hair and burn Bofur’s hat. Are we clear?” 

“How come Ori gets away with it?” Nori asked, raising a braided brow. 

“Because he’s a sweetheart who wouldn’t tell Frodo, isn’t that right Ori?”

“Right, Bilbo.” Ori grinned, glancing at his middle brother who gaped wordlessly as the Hobbit headed into the kitchen.  
The four Dwarves looked at one another and Bofur just winked at Nori, sauntering after their Hobbit-lady puppetmaster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur is a needy little dwarrow at times, and Thorin makes terrible decisions in life.

“Aunt Bilbo, the one with the hat keeps trying to convince me to put my hair in pigtails like his.” Frodo complained after an hour of being amazed by the Dwarrows.

“They can be rather annoying, can’t they? Just think I had to put up with more than just four on my journey. If you don’t like him doing it, tell him you’ll put worms in his boots. If he persists, then get me.” Bilbo chuckled, patting the boy’s head as she raised a brow when Ori cleared his throat in disapproval. 

“Miss Bilbo, I don’t think it’s wise to suggest he do these things, I mean...What if he actually takes it too far and shears his father’s beard?” Ori’s voice was uncertain, but Bilbo wouldn’t put it past him to have figured out who the father was, after all he was an intelligent dwarf. 

“I would do it first, Ori. Don’t tell anyone if you make an educated guess about the father because I don’t trust you to be wrong.” Bilbo brought herself up to full height as best she could, brow furrowed at the dwarf who meekly nodded and mouthed a name. Bilbo wouldn’t tell him how close his guess was, but that didn’t matter. 

 

Dinner was a cheerful affair, the brothers played for Frodo, Ori and Dori helped serve the food while Bilbo laid out the table with Bofur. 

They sat to eat and Bilbo kept kicking their shins every time they brought up Frodo looking so much like Bilbo, or his parentage. Nori’s tongue was too loose with a good meal down him and a bit of ale. 

“Will we see the other dwarves tomorrow, aunt?” Frodo asked after finishing his portion of the apple pie for pudding.

“No. I will be seeing them but you must stay at home because I don’t want you speaking with them. They’re not so nice as our guests. You are absolutely forbidden.” Bilbo crossed her arms and Frodo just nodded, understanding that now it was time for bed. He was still going to do as he pleased, he wasn’t going to be intimidated by aunt Bilbo. He wanted to talk to them, especially the famous Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.

But apparently he needed to go to bed, so to bed he went.

 

“Nori he doesn’t need to know his parentage yet, so you must keep your mouth shut and stop suggesting things to Frodo.” Bilbo had the four in the living room, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping on the floor irritably. Bofur had always found the foot tapping to be adorable, really.

Bofur intended to court her, so long as it would be allowed by the others or Frodo’s real father. He didn’t have any high hopes about it being him, the lad’s eyes were absolutely not the right colour, but he still wanted to try and be a father to the boy if he had the chance. He knew Nori wouldn’t claim the boy if he was the father, he wasn’t so sure about Thorin or Dwalin, but that didn’t bother him so much for now because he actually paid attention to Bilbo.

“Will you tell him who his real father is?” Dori asked with a slight frown. “I mean, should you tell the boy the truth, will you tell him the full truth?”

“It won’t matter who the real father is. It doesn’t change anything about my life unless I decide it does.” She replied, her lip giving a tremble. Bofur recognised that tremble, it wasn’t a tremble of tears threatening to fall, or even a tremble of fear. Stubbornness with a pinch of pure seething rage in a tiny lass’ frame. Typical Bilbo, through and through, that’s what it was. He tried not to laugh as Dori nodded quickly and Nori shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. 

“So. How’s about we have something to drink, eh?” Nori suggested, pulling out a flask with a little grin. 

Bilbo scoffed at that and pulled out a bigger decanter from a cupboard and poured drinks for all, even Ori despite Dori’s disapproval. Whatever it was, Bofur found himself becoming more cheerful than ever and willing to try his luck. Nori seemed to have a similar idea, but this time he needed to try without his partner in crime.

He found himself shuffling closer to her, until he had an arm over her shoulder, Nori gave him a quick wink and suggested that they get ready to sleep. 

Bofur raised a brow at Bilbo, properly seeing her for the first time since he’d been there. She’d aged, he hadn’t. Not as much. She was more adult and responsible than before, harder eyes too, he supposed her treatment at the hands of Thorin and the others didn’t help.  
He smiled and kissed her forehead before getting up to go stumbling into the room he was allocated. 

 

“So, young master Frodo.” Thorin raised a brow, the fauntling watching him with a dubious expression. “Why are you here?”

Frodo had arrived just after elevensies to find the other dwarves, despite what aunt Bilbo had told him. He’d said he was going to play with some of his Brandybuck cousins. He felt guilty about lying to his aunt, but she was a fussy bachelorette who had already had adventures with them, Frodo wanted his own adventure, or to at least know them. It seemed right that he try and talk to them, but now he was a little intimidated. 

“Why didn’t aunt Bilbo want me to speak to you?” He asked, hands on his hips. Dwalin’s heart stung at how alike Bilbo the boy acted, yet still kept dwarvish tendencies that were obviously ingrained. 

Balin stepped forward first. 

“Well, King Thorin here was sick...he may have made some rash decisions during his illness which included threatening your am... aunt. So she doesn’t like us very much right now. The others were on her side and tried to make us change his mind, but it didn’t work.” Balin smoothly left out what they’d discovered which had made them come here.

Frodo’s bright eyes rifted from Balin to his brother and then to the princes. 

“All of you? You all hurt my aunt? No wonder she hit you so hard, normally she pinches my ear if I act out of turn. I should think you quite deserved it, didn’t you?” Frodo crossed his arms.   
Balin pretended not to notice how rounded the boy’s ears were.

“Now lad, I don’t think we need to bring up old things from long ago. We only came because the princess told us mistress Bilbo hadn’t much of the gold she deserved.” Balin lied flawlessly. He was a politician so of course he knew how to twist the truth in their favour.

“Well then I shan’t be sticking around, seeing as you’re a bunch of lying brutish dwarves. Good day.” Frodo harrumphed, before marching away.

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a look before Thorin’s heavy boots came pounding up the track after Frodo.  
“Boy, wait! Inudoy! I would never lie to the son of Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, lifting the boy by his waist into his arms, shoeless feet kicking into the air. Kíli dropped the axe he was holding and Fíli’s jaw dropped. 

“Let go of me! Let go! You’re crazy!” Frodo shouted, catching the dwarf in the jaw with his fist, falling to the ground with a panicked scurry as fast as he could go, heart racing in his ears.  
Dwalin placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“You claim him?”

“I do.”

“I am not certain he is yours, but we shall have to wait and see.” 

 

Frodo fell into the smial, heart racing, and blood pounding, and chest heaving, and tears streaming.   
“Bilbo! Bilbo!” He shouted, running toward the kitchen.

He didn’t expect to see his aunt throwing a punch in what appeared to be fisticuffs with the white haired dwarf- Dori, was it?   
She was so surprised that she actually hit the dwarf, though he didn’t seem fazed by it. 

“Frodo? What have you done?” She asked, able to read the terror on his face. “Gentlemen. Go outside please.”   
Four pairs of feet made a quick exit and Bilbo scooped the fauntling into her arms, sitting him on the table.

“I went to see the other ones, the one you hit called me your son and called me inu...inudo- something and they lied to me about why they came. She sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“Oh you silly boy. I didn’t want to tell you, I never thought you’d find this out.” She sighed, pushing her own brassy hair behind her ear. “Frodo, you are my boy. You always have been dear to me, I loved you as my own son because you are. You can understand why I let my cousins raise you, for their child died the night you came into this world.” She took a shuddering breath, taking the boy’s slightly larger hands into her own.   
“One of them is your father, I don’t want them to know until I am certain that you won’t be taken away from me. Inudoy means son, but that doesn’t mean for certain that he is your father, just because he claimed you as his.”  
Frodo looked into her eyes with an unreadable expression before nodding weakly and wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight hug. 

“I always suspected.” He mumbled into the more pointed ear.

“Of course you did, you’re a Baggins, not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.” She joked, tapping their foreheads together. “Now if they grab you again I want you to shout ‘Imrid amrad ursul’ at him. Or pull his beard very hard. Understood?”   
“Yes aun- Mama.” Frodo replied, a small smile spreading across his lips. Bilbo chuckled and pulled him from the table, raising her brows at the spying dwarves. 

“Now, how about we visit mister Thorin too big for his pants?” She asked, holding her hand out to Frodo, who took it gladly.  
She stepped out of the house, sting securely attached to her waist as they headed towards where Frodo had just run from. Bilbo gestured for Bofur to take her arm and for the brothers to follow closely behind. Nori’s shit eating grin could probably be seen from Tookborough. Bilbo then paused to scoop Frodo onto her waist.

 

Of all the things Thorin had expected to see, Bilbo Baggins arm in arm with Bofur, and Frodo sat comfortably in her arm. And she had a dark smile from one ear to the other.   
This was not good. 

“Dori, restrain Dwalin. Nori, you take care of Thorin.” Bilbo sweetly suggested, placing Frodo in Bofur’s arms as she stepped forward, Thorin kicked down into place by Nori while Dori held Dwalin down. 

“Thorin, I will not have you claiming my boy as your own, regardless of what you may think is true. The only parent Frodo has ever needed was me and myself only. You will stop this inudoy nonsense and you will respect my wishes, you will be welcomed to stay in my smial should you do so.” She glanced back at Bofur and Frodo and allowed the barest hint of a smile before Thorin cleared his throat.

“We thank you. But as your son’s king I wish to know who the father is, if he is mine I shall treat him as I please.” Thorin replied haughtily. 

Bilbo drew sting, placing it at the base of Thorin’s throat. “Do not mistake my hospitality for your rudeness as acceptance for you rough handling Frodo, we do not have kings in the shire, nor do we need them. I will tell Frodo his sire’s name when I decide. Not a moment before or after.” She sheathed sting and nodded to the elder Ri brothers who allowed Dwalin and Thorin up, before complacently taking their place beside Bofur.   
Bilbo had always had them under her thumb and still did. Bofur watched her with an expression that made Thorin’s gut roll with anger and made Dwalin pity the man. 

Frodo guided them back to Bag end, with Thorin ignoring the smug comments about being lost without them. Fíli and Kíli watched the faunt run about with eyes the sizes of saucers, much to Balin’s amusement. They reached it with time spare for a late lunch, though really it was closer to afternoon tea, so Bilbo made herself and Frodo double the amount, leaving the Dwarves in the parlour to entertain themselves. 

Nori and Dwalin watched one another.   
They both knew that Bofur and Nori weren’t the father, they didn’t look enough like the lad. Nori and Dwalin knew each other well enough for that, after years of cat and mouse and then working on both sides of the law for Erebor. Nori hoped Frodo wasn’t Thorin’s. Dwalin hoped it wouldn’t matter which Durin it turned out to be. 

Frodo joined the room a few minutes later and the conversation quickly turned from westron to ishglimek, just in case he knew some khuzdul. Nori pretended not to notice how Bofur gravitated to the boy, asking him plenty of questions about Bilbo’s lie now and how she treated him and what she now liked. Nori knew exactly what was up and smiled to himself as Frodo explained how she’d been having suitors lately trying to get in at her wealth. 

Thorin seemed to pay attention after a few moments, eyes trained on the boy. 

“And then she stomped on Othodo Proudfood’s toes and kicked him out of the door, he told her that adventures needed to be knocked out of fauntlings like I and that she gives me too much freedom, that when he gave her a child she would understand. And then I shot him full of conkers with one of my Took cousins. Just to teach him a lesson about how not to treat a Baggins of Bag End!” Frodo boasted. Bofur laughed and grinned at Thorin. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t do that to you, Thorin!” Bofur taunted, patting the boy’s head. 

“He’s lucky I didn’t throw him in that river.” Thorin muttered quietly. 

“Imrid amrad ursul!” Frodo spat out, the words not quite sounding right in their pronunciation, but still getting his point across. Fíli’s jaw dropped, not for the first time that day. 

“I like him! Can we keep him, uncle?” Kíli howled with laughter, feet hitting the table as he shook with glee. Fíli tried to bite back a snort, but ended up sniggering behind his hand beside his brother. Thorin was red with rage and Dwalin placed a hand on his shoulder, chuckling to himself. 

“You certainly do have her fire, lad.” Balin commented, glancing at Dori who was carefully offered a wink when he was sure Thorin wasn’t looking for his reaction. 

 

Dinner was as to be expected, the Dwarves made a mess, Frodo and Kíli ended up dancing on the table while Fíli and Ori danced on the dressers playing their instruments, Bilbo and Thorin fought over the potatoes. Bofur and Nori cleaned up with Dori and Dwalin while Balin and Ori helped arrange the rooms. Dori insisted that he and Ori share, despite there being more than enough space for all of them to have their own room. 

Frodo went to bed after the first yawn. Dwalin found himself watching as Bilbo tucked the boy into bed, humming gently to him as she brushed his hair from his face and planted a kiss to his forehead. He felt like an intruder, looking at something he never should have, but at the same time it felt almost natural for him to watch this. Perhaps when he returned to Erebor he’d consider marriage, if it meant he could have this when he returned from patrols. 

Bilbo bade them goodnight with the threat of sting up their jacksies should they wake Frodo and went on her way to sleep, but was intercepted by Bofur. 

“Bilbo, I know it’s been twenty years and all, you probably will turn me down right away, but can I sleep in your bed tonight? We don’t have to do anything y’know, I just missed being close to you like we used to.” He sheepishly asked, glancing up to see her with a playful grin. 

“Just this once, Bofur. Don’t tell Nori or he’ll be jealous like in Rivendell.” She tapped the brim of his hat and headed into her room, with Bofur gladly following behind with his clothes being discarded on the floor. She clucked her tongue at his attire, throwing him some large hobbit sleepwear. 

“I won’t have you wearing those disgusting clothes. Have Dori make some more and let me wash it all up tomorrow.” She insisted, before climbing into bed in her gown. 

He forgot how cuddly she was, once he was curled up around her, braids having been taken out for the night so that her brown ringlets mixed with his black waves and they settled into slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo awoke early so that none of the Dwarves would bother her, gathering up every bit of clothing she could find.   
Bofur's were the easiest to get, seeing as it was all over her floor.

Socks, shirts, pants, undergarments, all over the Smial, she could travel unheard through the rooms and they wouldn't awaken.  
She planted a single kiss to Frodo's forehead before grimacing at the pile of filthy clothes before her.

Dirty dwarves, had they not bathed in twenty years? 

Well, other than Dori. His clothes were near perfectly clean, but she was sure he wouldn’t mind giving them a quick rinse.   
They were washed in the garden, huge tub of hot soapy water would do their clothes some good, even if they weren’t going to awaken for a while after that ordeal. She hummed to herself, washing out the assorted clothes. The Ri brothers’ clothes were washed first, seeing as they were cleanest and wouldn’t take too long to dry. Bofur and Dwalin were next, then Balin and the royal family had theirs washed. 

The sound of a Dwarf settling down behind her, probably Bofur, was what greeted her. And then the scent of Dwarvish pipe weed. 

That wasn’t Bofur’s pipe weed, he’d acquired a taste for Hobbitish Longbottom leaf. No, this was Southlinch, so obviously it was one of the Dwarves that regularly visited Bree. 

Nasty stuff, she preferred Old Toby. Only Hobbits knew how to grow the good stuff. 

She glanced behind her, surprised to see Dwalin watching with a content expression as she washed and cleaned their clothes. 

“Lazy oaf, why don’t you give me a hand in putting the clothes onto the line?” She called out to him, getting a well meaning snort in response as the huge warrior got up to his feet and began to peg the clothes onto her line. 

“You’re good as a wife and amad, yet y’ won’t act as either, even though Frodo now knows the truth. It’s almost amusing, though I must say I’m confused.” The tall dwarf commented, watching Bilbo with a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. 

“Well I’d rather not marry anyone yet, because Frodo is fulfilling enough. Why have to dedicate different parts of my heart when I can use all of it to raise that boy properly?” She replied, scrubbing at Kíli’s shirt. Had he rolled in mud like a dog? It wouldn’t surprise her. 

“I can see your logic in that, though Bofur’s pining for you still. Are you going to try courting him, or should I let him down gently for you?” Dwalin raised a scarred brow at the little Hobbit. 

“I do not need you trying to juggle my love life for me Dwalin, there are more important things at hand. Like ensuring Frodo doesn’t find out who his father is. Or that Frodo’s father won’t steal him away in the dark of the night.” She paused her scrubbing and sighed. “Also, Dwalin your taste in pipe weed is both foul and too mannish.” 

Dwalin chuckled, this no longer so young Lady-Hobbit always knew how to lighten a dark mood. “Well, feel free to gift me something better. But I’m no Bofur, I’ll take what I like, not what you like.” 

“Yes, yes. Just take some from the tin in the kitchen next time you’d like to try something superior.” She replied, passing him the shirt while she worked on the next piece of clothing. Eventually they were done and Bilbo asked him to take the tub and empty it out into the grass outside of the garden. He was a big strong dwarf, after all. 

He did it with ease, coming back into the kitchen to find the little woman had already started to make a breakfast for 11 people. Dori already had a pot of tea brewing for those who wanted it. Frodo had been sent to market to buy apples and more oats for the porridge. 

The tables had been moved about by Bofur and Nori so there was space for everyone to sit and eat together, and once the food was ready, they waited for Frodo to return before they started eating. 

“So, today Frodo I want you to take your uncles Dori and Ori to town so they can buy fabric, take your uncle Balin with them so he can buy appropriate food for the duration of their stay, Fíli and Kíli can help him carry all the food back, seeing as they’re strapping young lads. And I’d like you to take Bofur with you because he should look at the toys here, I’m sure it’d entertain him.” 

Every Dwarf at the table stiffened.   
Initially it was a how she named Dori and Ori as uncles, causing Nori to choke a little on his drink, before she called Balin an uncle too and they seemed to calm, even if just a little. Frodo, obliviously agreed to his mother’s wishes and headed to his room to get dressed. Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who glanced at Nori. 

Looks like trouble ahead.

The second Frodo and the boys were out of the house, Thorin, Dwalin and Nori were cowed into the parlour. 

“All of you need to sit down and listen to me. I have decided upon conditions that will allow you to get to know Frodo. I know how much you like your contracts, so I have one to offer you. You may get to know Frodo, you may spend time with him away from others and teach him parts of your trade, that doesn’t mean he’s yours. He’s with Bofur now because Bofur isn’t intrusive on Frodo and I know he doesn’t mind not being around Frodo. Thorin, if you try to tell him you’re his father, you’re dead. You’re deader than that damned dragon. You’re so dead that Fíli will be King Under The Mountain and nobody will find your body for a thousand years. Dwalin, I will shave your beard if you hint to him, and Nori... Well I’ll give you some silver for your efforts if you don’t cause trouble.”

Thorin and Dwalin glanced at one another in surprise, though Dwalin seemed a little more... Understanding? Of the conditions which Bilbo had propositioned them with. 

“If he is my son I will tell him everything he needs to know! If he is a prince, the line of succession will be altered drastically. You don’t understand the implications of this, burglar!” Thorin rose to his feet, towering over the Hobbit. 

She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him defiantly, brow set in a proud glare. 

“It doesn’t matter who his father is, because unless I suddenly fall in love with the father, he won’t need to know.” Bilbo spat. “And I have a name, unless you’ve forgotten once more. I am not a thief, I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, lady of this Smial. It would serve you well to remember yourself, Thorin.” 

“It isn’t that simple, you are a thief. You stole a Dwarf’s child, you stole my Arkenstone, the very heart of the mountain. That’s not the only heart you stole either, was it? We know Bofur shared your bed last night. Did you promise him you’d marry him? Bear his children if you haven’t already? You’re no better than a whore, Burglar Baggins. Hiding the truth from us, his kin. Admit it, you don’t even know who your son’s father is!” Thorin snarled. 

A single harsh slap resounded through the smial. 

Bilbo’s chest was rising and falling quickly as she delivered another blow to Thorin, this time punching his stomach. Nori was on his feet quick as a flash, tugging her away from Thorin. 

“Get out! Get out of my home, get out or else!” She shrieked, kicking out at Thorin. The soles of her feet were covered in scars, as were her hands. Thorin stormed out, kicking the door on his way. Bilbo thrashed until Nori released her, and then she fled into her study. She needed to leave, to see mountains again perhaps. 

She needed to take Frodo and hide. 

No. 

She would write Frodo a letter, give him the bead and allow him to decide for his own whether he wanted to be with his father.   
She was not a whore.   
She was a well to do Hobbit. 

She drew out her ink and quill in anger, scribbling a quick hasty note detailing what had happened, leaving it for Bofur to read before she wrote a single name on another piece of paper with ‘your choice to stay or go’ beneath it.

She left it on his pillow, took sting and exited through one of the many passageways inside of Bag End. 

Fuck you Thorin Oakenshield.

She headed away from home, through the winding paths and townships until she was far enough out of reach of the Dwarves and almost into Rushock Bog. 

It was only when her foot slipped on the marshy earth that she realised she was being ridiculous, had missed two meals and would miss another two before she got home. 

Damn that Thorin Oakenshield. 

She sat heavily on the soggy soil, not caring that her clothes would be now muddy. 

She was not a whore! She knew exactly who she was. She wasn’t leading Bofur on, she wasn’t anything he said she was.   
He would see, she would prove him wrong. 

He was such an ass, she was wrong to have had an infatuation with him during the quest, she was glad that it was fleeting, not enough for her to pledge herself to such an arrogant, self-centred king. Bastard.

She wasn’t leading on Bofur, he had come to her and asked to sleep in her bed! He had always been there for her, he had been the one that wanted to be around her, he had cared and tried to made her stay. 

He didn’t love her, she knew that. They were friends, but they slept together. He slept with Nori too, it wasn’t like anything they did was exclusive. 

Unless he wanted to start one? Did he? More importantly...Did she? They were close, she loved his company and he was the one to cheer her up, to try and make her stay even after being told she shouldn’t have been on the journey, that she was a hindrance and belonged at home. 

Bother and confound it all, these stupid Dwarves making her life difficult!

Bofur opened the door to the Smial with a cheery call to any who were home.

“Lass? I’m home, Frodo stayed out with the others a bit longer but he’ll be alright.”

The throat cleared from by the wall was most certainly not Bilbo’s. 

“Bofur, mate. Thorin and Bilbo had a mighty scrap, bigger than any other before she took the stone. She hit him something hard and just...vanished, like she used to.” Nori seemed calm enough, but Bofur knew him well enough to know he was anything but calm. 

“How long ago?” He asked, braids wiggling a little as he adjusted his hat. 

“Two hours? Maybe three. Fucked if I know. Thorin came back not long ago and he and Dwalin have been arguing in one of the rooms.” Nori paced a little, knife flicking in his fingers. 

“What did Thorin say? How bad did he insult out Hobbit?”

“Called her a thief, a whore, a liar...er...Accused her of stealing your heart but not intending to do anything with it, saying she’ll bear your kids for you. Generally spitting on her good name. She was more pissed than my amad the first time I was arrested. She slapped him and punched him and threw him out of her uh...whatever this is called. House? Smeel? I dunno. Did you fuck her last night?”

“Fuck her? God no. I just cuddled her a bit. You know, vanilla like.” Bofur shrugged. “She sure did steal my heart but that’s because I practically handed it to her, arse over brains.” He added quietly, though not ashamedly.

“You’re gonna stay here, ain’t ya?” 

“Most likely, if she’ll have me. I know we’ve had our fun, but you’re gonna find yourself a respectable Dwarrow or ‘Dam one day and be made an honest man. Well, not honest or respectable, but you know what I mean.”

“We had a good run, at least. Your arse is one of the best I’ve had. Mahal knew what he was doing when he made you, mate.” Nori chuckled, stepping forward to knock their heads together gently. 

“Oh please it’s not like I’m dead! I’ll see you again after you lot leave. How’s about we get a search party going and try to find our Bilbo?”

“Your Bilbo.” 

“She’s yours too, for now. I’m going to go and deal with Thorin. Fucking bastard needs two more tight slaps.” The Dwarf frowned, fist clenched.

“Is Bilbo...Do you think she’s your One?” Nori asked, hand placed on Bofur’s arm. 

“Well, there’s not a single mine to be seen around here so there's no ore to be dug up, but there’s toys and I don’t mind not mining if it means I get to be with her every day from now on.” Bofur shrugged noncommittally. 

Nori shook his head, leaving the miner to head into the room where Thorin sat silently. 

Bofur crossed his arms, leaning on his mattock.

“You need to apologise.” He cheerfully broke the silence, eyes trained on the king. 

“Why is it your business, I am your king. You take the whor- Hobbit’s side?” Thorin growled, though he seemed a little subdued, thank you Dwalin. 

“I’d reconsider calling her that in front of me, Thorin. You should know better than to insult her when I was one of her first friends during the journey. She only stayed because of us being nice to make up for you. I thought maybe you’d understand, but you have no idea, shame on you Thorin.” His tone turned scolding, as it might be for one of his nephews or nieces, seeing as Bombur was some kind of virile god in the bedroom. Dwalin watched with a quiet tension that he hadn’t shown before.

“It is none of your concern, it’s hardly like she’s the One Mahal made for you, she’s a Hobbit after all!” Thorin snapped. Dwalin’s eyes raised to fix on Bofur’s face which turned ever less jolly.

“You would do well to remember Mahal and the Green Lady are married, and that the Green Lady made Hobbits. And honestly, I think that she very well could be. You wouldn’t understand, all you love is the gold. Nori and I will go out to find her, Dwalin you are welcome to come and join us, but that won’t be necessary.” Bofur smacked his mattock to the ground once before striding out of the smial.

Dwalin shook his head. 

“Now y’ went and fucked that up badly. Y’ probably won’t get another smile from Bofur again, insulting his One like that. Stay put and tell the others when they return.” 

Bilbo had no idea where she was, she was sure that she was supposed to be in Tuckborough, but she couldn’t see a single smial. She hadn’t gone far enough to be in East Farthing, surely? 

It was all just too much, the stress of it all, so she did what any mature, responsible adult Hobbit would do.   
She sat down and began to sob into her hands like a faunt, rocking back and forth. 

She hadn’t cried like this since Rivendell, arms wrapped around her stomach. 

By the time she had stopped, it was darkening and her stomach was growling something fierce. 

She wiped her eyes and began to wander in the direction she believed would bring her somewhere familiar. 

Eventually, she stumbled onto a path and began to walk. 

A hand found hers, and then another on her shoulder. 

She looked up into Frodo’s father’s eyes and let out a quiet whimper.   
She was not a whore. He knew she wasn’t a whore. 

Right? 

She was quiet as he gathered her into his arms and carried her back to the Smial, face buried in his beard. 

 

Back in Bag End she shut herself in her study, refusing for anyone to join her other than Frodo, who sat in her arms as she whispered his true name to him, whispered his father’s name and braided a plait and bead into his hair at his demand.   
Nori wasn’t surprised when he saw the bead, Bofur shrugged it off. It didn’t matter to him, because he loved all children regardless and he loved Bilbo. Dwalin grimaced and Thorin stared incredulously. 

“Pay up.” Ori placed his hand out to Balin, Kíli and Fíli. They begrudgingly passed gold towards the little scribe who tucked it away neatly in his pocket. Nori threw over a small bag of coins to Dwalin and Frodo ignored the lot of them, bringing tea to Bilbo. 

“Did he say anything?” Bilbo asked quietly, once Frodo was sat in her embrace once more.

“No, but Ori gathered up coin and Nori threw gold to Dwalin.” Frodo was almost puzzled by this, but it just caused Bilbo to laugh, coppery curls thrown backwards as she did so.

Dwarves were so predictable!

“They gathered bets whether I would come on the journey, so really I’m not surprised. Now how about I cook up a storm? I’ve missed five meals!” She exclaimed.


	4. Chapter 4

It’d been two weeks since her birthday, since the day her boy, her son had been born. 

His secret name, his inner name was one she wouldn’t ever know, not knowing khuzdul herself. She imagined his name would be something beautiful, perhaps to do with those almost lightning blue eyes he’d inherited from his father.

Bilbo’s heart ached for the son she hadn’t raised, claiming illness as a reason not to host her birthday party. Or to give out gifts she’d been given from Erebor. It was hardly the amount she deserved, but it was all she felt she was allowed.

Nobody had to know the truth. Her cousins would keep the story quiet, they wanted their child and as much as Bilbo did, there was no father and he wasn’t the most hobbitish looking baby, having taken longer to be born than normal hobbits. 

Frodo would one day know the truth, but for now it didn’t matter. He would be raised in a stable home, one she would never provide due to being so...curmudgeonly and reclusive. Or at least, that’s what she wanted to believe, hoping he would grow to be healthy, stable and well to do.   
And hopefully not marry a Bracegirdle. 

Block heads, the lot of those girls.

Though she befriended an even bigger group of block heads, but that was hardly here nor there.

The guilt gnawed at her flattening stomach. 

She didn’t even know if Thorin was still alive, or how Nori was, or if Bofur’s leg survived the damage. Was Ori’s hand okay? He needed to be able to write to her and tell her about how Erebor was flourishing and how Dori and Balin were coping now, after the rift about her treachery. Did Kíli have a beard flourishing yet? Did his elf-friend survive? Who had been chosen for Fíli to court, was their amad in Erebor yet? How were Nori and Dwalin behaving now that they were both sides of the law working for their king? She missed Nori and Bofur’s antics, she missed Dori’s well meaning and well informed life advice. She even missed Thorin, his stubbornness and pride and anger, all of it. She missed Fíli and Kíli, but knew she’d never see them again. They were probably dead.

She scribbled a note, a letter that would never be read. It was for Frodo’s father.

‘I am so sorry, if I had known sooner I would have told you before I left. I’m not ashamed, not of you or I. But this is for the best. Our son is strong and healthy, he will make you proud one day. I hope that you should never meet him, though. It would be far too much of a headache for both of us. Or perhaps heartache, but I hope you’re not angry with me for not telling you. He has your eyes and your smile, your hair colour and boldness.  
He’s a Dwobbit, I suppose. I thought of that silly name while I was in Rivendell. I would like for his true name to relate to his eye colour, perhaps. Though I don't know how your naming traditions work. He’s got more than enough brains for your entire family, of course. Seeing as you’re lacking when it comes to some members. In another life perhaps we would have raised him together in Erebor. But my banishment still stands and we weren’t in love as far as I am aware. I’ll always remember the time we spent together and the friendship we built. I'm so sorry.’

There was a knock on Bag-End’s door. An irritating, repetitive knock.

Lobelia Bracegirdle. Or Sacksville-Baggins. Whatever you wanted to call the horrible little woman.

Bilbo tore herself away from her study and quickly adjusted her tea-gown. She wouldn’t let this little upstart cause her trouble at this time in the morning. 

“Bilbo Baggins! Open this door right away, you’re being awfully rude to your own family!” Came the nasal demand.   
Bilbo threw the door open, hands on her hips. 

“Lobelia. Why, you’re here awfully early. I’m afraid I can’t offer you second breakfast, as you’ve still got all my silverware in your house. It’s incredibly rude to steal from ‘your own family’ and I must say, it’s unbecoming of a Baggins to steal.” Bilbo’s foot tapped irritably. Lobelia gawked and squawked, curls shaking while she stepped forward in that vile violet dress of hers. She pointed her finger almost right up Bilbo’s nose. 

“You’re calling me a thief? It’s hardly like you’re poor, I bet your tunnels are flowing with gold and silver! I know your secret, Bilbo Baggins. I know!” 

It was all Bilbo could do not to break that nasty woman’s finger. 

“You know my secret? Oh do tell, I probably don’t know it.” Bilbo replied, metal bead feeling like a leaden weight in her pocket  
.   
“Your adventure, you went and married a Dwarf, didn’t you? That’s how you have all this gold, because you took the Dwarf’s gold and left him.” Lobelia sneered. 

“Married a Dwarf?” A snort escaped Bilbo’s lips, before she covered her mouth and laughed, almost falling against the wall with how hard her body shook. “Me? Marrying a Dwarf? I don’t think so!” 

“Then you stole it, burglar.” Lobelia squinted. 

Bilbo slapped the girl before she could even realise her hand was in motion.

 

 

Bilbo awoke with a small start, having been jolted from her sleep far too early. By her side, Bofur gave a soft snore. 

Damn it.

The sun was just about to rise, so she climbed from the bed without disturbing the miner, retrieving the nearest pipe, which was his before prowling outside. 

Thorin, surprisingly, was already awake and smoking outside. 

She chewed the end of Bofur’s pipe thoughtfully as she sat beside him, smoking her Old Toby.

It was Thorin who first broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, I am a king and should act as such, no matter what I feel about you, about how you acted and how our friendship ended. Will you forgive me? If not, I will shear my beard so all may know how wrongly I acted.” He placed a hand on her arm carefully.

She glanced down at his hand, it was capable of such cruelty, delivering death and pain, yet it seemed so timid when touching her far smaller arm. He could break her arm with one movement, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. 

“If you understand which parts of what you said were wrong, then you’re forgiven. Not for what happened before, but for yesterday. I will never forgive you for threatening to kill me, and by proxy, kill Frodo and damage your own soul. If your Maker did indeed make one for you.” Bilbo fell silent, a question falling from her lips before she could stop herself. “I wonder if Frodo’s soul was made by the Green Lady or your Mahal. Perhaps both...”

Thorin too, seemed to consider this. “Perhaps both. He’s very like you though, I was surprised you braided his hair like that, with the bead too. I thought Kíli was pulling my beard when I saw the bead. I had no idea...I thought-“ 

Bilbo shook her head, blowing a smoke ring before patting his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter now. Ori knew right away, funnily enough. He’s too smart for his own good, you should put him to work more often. I’ll miss him and his brothers when you all leave.” She admitted, leaning back a little, listening to the birds chirp brightly as the sun began to rise. 

“Why are you awake so early, anyway?” She asked, glancing over at him. 

“Kíli’s snoring. And what about you?” Thorin replied, quirking a brow at her. 

“Bad dreams. And Bofur’s a cuddler, I needed some air.” Bilbo shrugged. When she’d freshly returned from Erebor the nightmares were so much more intense, that she would be struggling for breath and desperate to escape from the darkness gripping at her throat, choking and blinding her. She’d awoken from a dream hardly terrible at all. “Though I feel far better now, I think I should return to bed. Perhaps you could even start making breakfast for your subjects.” She chuckled, nodding to him before heading back inside. 

Upon climbing back into bed, she chuckled, pressing a kiss to a certain slumbering Dwarf's whiskery cheek before settling back to sleep. 

Thorin paced into the Smial at some point and fell back asleep, awakening Kíli with his heavy footsteps. A peek into Frodo’s room showed that the boy’s father was asleep, head against the dresser while sat in a chair. Frodo himself was curled in a small ball, much to Kíli’s amusement, seeing as his father slept the complete opposite, taking up as much space as possible when in a bed. 

Dori was the first to start making breakfast, Balin joining him shortly after to lend a hand.

Bilbo was pleasantly surprised and shocked when she smelt Bacon cooking- not burning. Cooking!

She awoke Bofur with a light shove, the miner jolting awake, hair sticking up at all angles. She just clucked her tongue at him and went to help with the food. 

 

The sight that greeted her was by far her favourite. The table was laid out, Frodo’s hair was full of delicate short braids and a few beads and clasps to mark his family and clan. She glanced at the two dwarves responsible for filling Frodo’s hair with the braids and then shook her head with a chortle. 

She sat at the table, where Dori had pulled a chair out for her, a plate full of freshly cooked meats and egg was waiting for her. Nori had placed cutlery down- cutlery that had been stolen twenty years ago by Lobelia!   
Honestly, that thief was incredible. She’d barely mentioned it during the journey, yet he’d gone out of his way to get them back for her. How noble of him.   
She tugged Nori over by the front of his jacket and kissed the thief’s cheek before shoving him away to reach over and pat Frodo’s hair. 

 

“Really, none of you had to do this for me, for us. What’s brought all of this on, anyway?” She asked, hands clasped together on her stomach as she watched the Dwarves in amusement. 

“Well, it was Thorin’s idea, really. To make up for being such a...” Dori paused, looking at Frodo. “Well, you know what I mean.”   
Bofur sat down with a yawn, giving a thumbs up to Nori. 

Bilbo glanced over at Dwalin who fondly passed Frodo a cup of water and muttered something before signing to Balin.   
She shook her head. 

Dwarves. 

And Frodo Dwalinul Baggins, the Dwobbit of Bag End.

The other Dwarves should have seen it coming that Frodo was Dwalin’s, really. He had Durin eyes and Fundinul bravery and was more than willing to fight for his amad.   
And he could be brutally rude when he wanted to be, though he was plenty serious.  
Bilbo had felt guilty that by taking advantage of Dwalin she had stolen the stone and had a child as a result, but she didn’t regret it for even a second. Especially when Frodo’s hair wasn’t in his food for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the father was Dwalin all along. I know so many of you wanted it to be Bofur, nobody wanted Thorin.   
> I'd planned for the father to be Dwalin from the start, funnily enough, but I wanted to keep you all guessing.   
> There's still one more chapter left though, but thank you for your comments and kudos!


End file.
